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Cameron kept his eyes on me as he spoke. “I know what I like. And since I was the one in charge, it made it easy to do exactly what I wanted.”
A big, sticky ball of cotton stuck in my throat at the way he phrased that.
Wasn’t that why I was here?
Quite inexplicably, Cameron Wilder liked me, and even if he was pretending to let me do what I wanted right now, we both knew who would be in charge the moment he got his hands on me.
I shivered because I wanted those hands in a few different places.
“It’s so clean.” Dammit, my voice came out a little breathy, like I wasn’t quite in control of what I was saying.
“I’m not around much to make it messy,” he admitted. His arms were crossed over his chest while I circled the island, then peered into the stainless steel fridge, smiling when I found it less than half full. “Most of the time, I don’t get back here until I’m ready to fall straight into bed.”
When I faced him again, one eyebrow arched, he stared at the small ribbon that held my dress together around my waist.
“That’s still true now, isn’t it?” I asked lightly. I mimicked his posture, leaning up against the edge of the island and folding my arms over my middle. His eyes dipped to the V of my dress. “Ready to fall straight into bed.”
He dropped his arms and prowled closer. I sucked in a breath at his unnerving ability to make my blood race just by walking. And breathing. And looking.
Not only that, but why did he smell so good?
He smelled exactly like a man should. They probably taught him that in the same lesson as the whisper in the ear trick. It was like he’d just lathered up in the shower with something masculine and sexy and crisp, embedding it into his skin so that all he had to do was walk past and I was a helpless pile of hormonal goo.
I was never a helpless pile of anything, and it didn’t seem fair that Cameron wasn’t turning into mush right alongside me.
That simply wouldn’t do.
“Not straight into bed,” he murmured, studying my face as I tilted my chin to look up at him.
I licked at my bottom lip, curious if it had the same effect on him as it did on me.
Judging by the flare of heat in his eyes, it really, really did.
Then I moved my hands to the top button of his white button-down shirt, carefully plucking each little white disk through the opening until more and more and more of his hard, golden skin was revealed. The crisp little hairs tickled the back of my fingers, and his gaze took on a hazy, heavy-lidded quality when I finished unbuttoning his shirt and pushed it over the corded muscles of his shoulders.
“Why did you go out with my sister?” he asked.
I blinked, the question unexpected. “She asked.”
Cameron laughed, the straight white teeth and tiny dimple making my skin tight and hot. “That’s it?” he asked. Lazily, he tugged his shirt off, messing with the rolled sleeves until he could drop it in a pile on the floor.
My eyes coasted over the endless stretch of smooth skin, roped muscles honed from hard fucking work, and the masculine dusting of hair. I slid my hands up the stacks of muscles on his stomach, and he hissed in a breath.
“Yes,” I said simply. “She’s sweet. And she asked me nicely, so I said yes.”
His large, nimble fingers plucked at the ribbon holding my dress together, and I struggled to keep my breathing even. This wasn’t a headlong rush past my reserves, where I knew I shouldn’t be doing it. Not like the first time.
We were clear-headed, staring the thick, heady desire straight in the eyes. I certainly wasn’t going to look anywhere else when I wanted him so badly.
Until Cameron, I’d never realized that desire—the acute craving for another person—could have teeth, something sharp and visceral, like it would snap off your skin if you didn’t indulge it.
But this did.
Whatever built between us with these whispering touches grew fangs, sharp, sharp claws, a ragged heartbeat that I heard echoing in my chest.
His eyes held mine, full of heat and intent, and he slowly pulled the front of my dress away. “So I only have to ask if I want something from you,” he said in a rasping, ragged voice.
The backs of his fingers brushed against my quivering stomach, and then his mouth curled in a smile when my breath hitched. “M-maybe. Depends on what it is.”
